Fresher Pressure
by EphemeralBliss
Summary: [Self-Insert, OC] Wherein I am hired as an Academy Instructor to a bunch of kids who look more or less like the Rookie 9. Not the most bizarre of situations, but I am trying to keep afloat on this tumultuous sea all by myself.
1. Chapter 1

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* * *

 _Chapter 1_

* * *

It was wet when it all began – ironically enough, it was wet when it all ended. There is poetry in the way things worked, but I'd never been the one to ponder on that to begin with. But the pattern did cause a sensation of foreboding to rise within me.

When I awoke, my surroundings were all wrong – they were quite wet to begin with. Even my face was a wet mess. Wet clothes, wet skin, wet earth, wet grime – everything was ostensibly wet. It infuriated my numb, blurred senses. The next thing I knew, I was roughly hoisted up to meet the blinding glare of a lantern, the flames of which sputtered and crackled angrily. I met a pair of angry eyes.

I was treated to an entourage of obscenities. My vision was impaired by the steady torrent of rain, but there was fuzziness around the corners which increased whenever the hand gripping my torn collar shook pitifully in anger. I tried to breathe, and was rewarded with a throbbing sensation which swarm up and encased my weakening lungs. Rain fell on my face – maybe it was the spit of the man who was shaking me.

Maybe I could have concluded that it was all a weird dream of some sort – bizarre and quite bland and dreadful to be called one, but it definitely could've passed as one of those pseudo-nightmares. What was I being shaken for in the first place, anyway?

I don't have a clue whether it was all that shaking or insulting which brought me back to my senses, but when complete awareness came, I just clung on to the man who hurled slurs at me a mile a minute, even if I couldn't have possibly understood what they had meant at the time. There was no way I could catch a proper glimpse of his face, and he dragged me through the soil and the downpour, wriggling feet and all. Eating more mud when he dumped me, I tried to calm my breaths down to listen.

Lying there for what seemed like an eternal passage of time, I listened to the harsh rain and collected my wits. I heard my breathing and my breathing alone. Water seeped through the mud to coat my cheeks, which were steadfastly pressed to the mushy earth. The slow response to my surroundings drove me insane, because there was not a part of my body that was willing to cooperate when it came to standing up. And I wondered why everything was so wet.

Don't you hate when everything is damp? When that is the case, whatever you happen to come in contact with is slimy and sticky. I recall tossing and turning in the wet sludge to find a more comfortable and unrestricting pose, but I gave it up when something slimy brushed past my leg. I blindly thrust a leg into the air, before something hard fell on my face. I tasted leather.

Well, wasn't it a wonderful way to wake up – waking up to the taste of my own shoe.

I had a feeling that someone was hovering over me – it was a strange feeling, really. I don't know how I'd sensed it. Perhaps it was because I was eerily observant at the time. In any case, I closed my eyes tightly and attempted to play dead. It wasn't something I'd do under normal circumstances, but then I didn't realize that I was not dreaming.

The rain had ceased abruptly somewhere along the way, and I woke up to gaze at a red sky which was rapidly clearing. I couldn't see the sun, but the sky had caught my imagination. I sort of lay there in the mud, which had caked all over my face and my clothes. Belatedly realizing that one bare foot was missing its shoe, I rolled over and tried to get up.

There was a brief sensation of something light and gentle brushing against the nape of my neck.

I was in the middle of nowhere, bewildered and more than a little wet. I swung my upper body around to meet startled brown eyes, which gazed at me steadily, even if it was with uncertainty. I saw a pale, rounded face with striking features which screamed out an exotic mixture of ethnicity.

The woman stared down at me expectantly, holding out a palm. She was saying something, but I had no idea what. I caught it, a little breathless as I was pulled to my feet. Staggering a bit, I opened my mouth, puzzled when nothing came out. No sound, nothing. It was disorienting, and panic would've caught me in its tight grip if it weren't for the fact that my environment was new and so different. Had I woken up from a dream in another dream? Where was I?

The woman silently observed me from a distance as I hobbled farther and farther away from her. I noticed green grass everywhere, and the red-tinted sky had given away to a dreary shade of blue. The transition was alarming – it seemed like the sky you'd expect to see on someone's funeral, whitewashed and plaintive.

It made my heart ache, for some reason.

She was wearing a lot of weird stuff – drapes upon drapes, which were patterned with a caricature of flora and circular hues, somehow familiar in my eyes. Her hair was done up in an elaborate pattern, which was distinctly Chinese, or Taiwanese. I didn't know.

She spoke again, and I strained to grasp what she was speaking, before giving up eventually. Her lips curved in helplessness, the kind that would be subjected to a stranger in a foreign land.

I was standing on what seemed like a vast grass field, which stretched out as far as my eyes could see.

What a strange dream it was – if it was even one. My dreams usually held meanings, so what was the meaning of this dream? What was a woman I'd never met doing here, along with me? I'd learned somewhere that one always had dreams of the people they had met, consciously, or unconsciously. But that was rather silly of me to assume, wasn't it?

Rows and rows of houses, a few ones scattered around oddly – it seemed like I was on high ground. When I looked down, it sure seemed like it. A cozy enclave of houses built in an architectural pattern I was unfamiliar with. There was a huge tower that rose into the sky, spirals of stairs outlining it.

I realized that I didn't know my name.

The woman merely smiled when I failed to answer her question, and tucked her hair back. I wondered what she was doing, and why I could taste blood in my mouth.

I wish I could've said that this was the point where my vision had blurred, sending me spiralling into dark oblivion, but that wasn't the case. With every step I took, I found my legs turning to jelly. The woman clasped me by the back of my shirt firmly, even though her expression betrayed barely-concealed curiosity. I made a motion with my hands, pointing to her, before jabbing the scenery over my shoulder.

"What are you doing here?" Was what I had longed to ask, but for some curse or the other, nothing came out.

She made a sawing motion with her hands, crouching down on the grass as she ran her hand over the cool blades. I turned around to look at the patch of grass that seemed endless, terminating the edge of the cliff that overlooked the buildings. There was an uneven distribution in its length – my guess was that she had been trimming. I noticed that her hands were bruised from work, and a scythe that lay a few feet away from me.

The mysterious lady went ahead, and I followed like a dumb, confused mutt.

* * *

I am nameless. Telling you how I came to that conclusion might seem easy, but let me spare you the details. No, really. It is like I had an epiphany that this would happen from the beginning. I don't remember how old I am. As I sat in the corner of the strange room I was led into, waiting for someone to break me out of this strange dream, I pondered. And that was when memories came back – bit by bit, like dripping tap water.

I slept, thinking of the sounds Japanese doors made when they slid shut.

When I woke up, the woman from before thrust a cup that smelled faintly of cinnamon into my space, and I reared back. She looked at me apologetically, the elegant folds of her sleeves pushed back as she gestured for me to calm down. Heart racing, I had to arch backwards to get a better look.

"Where am I?" I asked, even as the warm glow of the torchlight made my squint. "Do I know you?"

She ignored me, placing a warm sheet over my head. Apparently, I was delirious with fever. I'd not known of any dream where my mouth would be dry and parched like paper. If that wasn't enough, I had to dream of a strange land. Maybe I was fulfilling my destiny?

Bullshit. The only destiny I had was to clean the week-old mold that was growing in the kitchen sink.

"Let me wake up." I told her seriously. "Let me wake up, please."

When she grinned, her luminous eyes shining in the light, she looked awfully pretty.

I played along. And that 'playing along' took me a short while to understand that without basic knowledge of Japanese, I'd be in a sandpit. It wasn't easy. Complete mastery of the language was a long way to go, but I managed just fine in three years with gradual fluency of the language, even though my Kanji writing skills drove Sasaki up the walls in cringe.

* * *

If you ever met me and asked me my name, I'd have no answer to give. That is, if you were asking about my real name. Perhaps I'd forgotten my name, maybe even renounced it. Who knows?

"Ton-chi, a little help with these boxes over here, if you don't mind me askin'."

"In a minute."

I could hear several voices coming over the partition that separated the kitchen from the main hall – in my opinion, these flimsy canvas partitions were the reason why kids came running to dinner an hour earlier than they probably should. It brought me all sorts of grievances, for one. It also made the staff clumsy.

Case in point, the daredevil who was working behind me. I heard the rough squelch of tomatoes as they were squashed.

"You are supposed to put the tomatoes over everything, at the end." I said, cracking an egg and watching it sizzle on the pan. This was the fifteenth, and twenty more were on the way for demanding mouths.

"Aw, shut up." I could hear him standing behind my back. "Watch as I try to imitate a lovey-dovey husband."

He then breathed into my ears, attempting to lick it. I ducked, and he went away, laughing obnoxiously.

"You are twenty three years too old for me, Suzuki-san." I said wryly, cracking another omelete on the skillet. You could say that making omelets were my only strong point in the kitchen.

"Why do I feel like protectin' my virtue, Ton-chi?" He asked, a toothpick in his mouth swaying from side to side as he leaned against the counter. "You got the kettle for Shio oba-san? Tha' old lady has been goin' on and on about her tea, the lazy pimp."

"Suzuki, you fucker!"

"What did you do?" I lowered my voice and turned around, only to find a plate heading for Suzuki's shiny head at break neck speed. Squeaking, I kneed his gut, pushing him onto the pile of crates. His butt crushed the tomatoes, squirting juice all over my hands as I braced it on either sides. There was the smash of glass over concrete, followed by the splintering of shards over our heads.

"Who the hell asked you to give that throwing knife to that brat?"

Sure enough, Suzuki immediately froze against my abdomen, wearing a horrified countenance. I shook my head, getting up and returning back to my omelette base, where the fire had burnt one of them to a crisp. Grimacing, I listened to the exchange that took place.

"A-aha…Mitsuni, Ten-Ten…she is a good k-kid."

Mitsuni was the resident demon. Who needed Uzumaki to have one when this man was guaranteed to throw a goddamn apocalypse? He seemed especially psyched today, wild chestnut hair all mussed up as he stalked towards his prey, who was cowering pitifully under the table nearest to him. Man, for an old guy nearing half a century, he crawled faster than a termite.

When I decided to ignore the ruckus, a plate sailed over my head. I decided to pack up with whatever ammunition I'd had – read: omelette – and leave the scene. It was routine, after all; the head caretaker beating the shit out of an insufferable colleague. We were all used to it by now.

I left the kitchen, entering the dining hall. It was nearing eight, and few of the caretakers were holding the kids at bay at the entrance of the room, even as they began squirming. They must've been pretty hungry. Some women brushed past me to enter the kitchen, and promptly came back running just in time as _another_ plate crashed within. All in a day's work at Konoha's one and only orphanage. Squatting on the ground, I mopped my face. It sure was sweltering. No matter what the boozos at the finance section of the Hokage's council said about the annual budget, we deserved to have fans installed. The level of technology wasn't that pathetic in Konoha.

A kid jogging past me tripped on his sandals, and would've slammed his pretty nose against the floor if I hadn't grabbed his wrist.

"Watch your steps, kid."

"Uhm-" He said, distracted as I loosened my grip. "Sure, thanks."

I watched as he ran off.

Where should I begin? I suppose any sane person will tell you their name, but you know that.

Ton.

Yeah, and I definitely wasn't expecting that. Like all names, this one has a story behind it. A short one at that.

" _Sasaki-san, what's tha' matter?"_

" _Oh, she…she can't seem to comprehend what I am saying."_ Sasaki had said, grasping my hands tightly as I stared dead ahead.

" _Oh really?"_ Suzuki had chuckled, pushing her to the side. _"What's your name, kid?"_

" _Haah."_

" _Say wha'? Are yah deaf or somethin'?"_ He'd glanced back at Sasaki, who was resigned at the time.

" _Haaaahn."_

" _Say, you know where tha' food is?"_

" _Pooooo."_

" _Wha' the hell?"_ Suzuki had laughed. _"She's sayin' she likes pork."_

" _Too-"_

" _Hey, we'll call her Ton, then."_

Hence the name. I hadn't realized until much, much later that _ton_ meant pork in Japanese. Part of me was convinced that the only reason why Suzuki even remembered the convo was because my hentai moans had thoroughly freaked him out.

That man is dirty, I tell you. Not that I was any better. In Konoha, you'd better believe that everyone had dirtied their little hands to an extent.

I remember most things now, and I can't tell whether that is a good thing or a bad thing in the long run. There was a jar of pickles that I'd forgotten to give to my old neighbour back home, which is probably creating one hell of a stink since I'd always left the jar open for aeration. All these random thoughts would be the death of me.

"Stop that brat! Come back here, TenTen!"

Turning around, I almost slipped on my feet as the kid whirled past me, one of her hair buns undone. At least some of us were spirited.

See, memories are painful. There are four stages of grieving that a person goes through when they lose everything, but I don't want to bore you with the details. There is beauty in forgetting, but a curse in remembering. Sometimes I wish I didn't have much to lose in my past life, but there was.

A disabled sister to take care of.

The light in the hall dimmed pretty quickly as the sun set, and the kids flocked towards the dining hall even as my feet carried me away. Sometimes, you know, I just liked to stop and think.

The shinobi world was-

 _Strange. Weird. Uncanny. Unbelievable._

All said and done, I _could've_ used these adjectives. But I didn't want to, because a simple word like 'strange' would be an insult to the conflicting feelings making a mayhem in my head. It was something frightening, yet gripping; amazing, yet ludicrous – a number of adjectives, honestly. Who was I, in the face of power hungry, despotic maniacs willing to destroy entire continents with the mere flow of a questionable life force?

The answer frightened the shit out of me.


	2. Chapter 2

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* * *

 _Chapter 2_

* * *

Konoha is beautiful. It is fresh, and rather unconventional in a lot of ways. Of course, being home to a whole bunch of ruthless killers might have had something to do with that. Nonetheless, Konoha is pretty neat, even when it has had its fair share of bloodshed.

The morning was cold to wake up to. A heater wasn't really available, and I was dismayed when I opened the faucet in the shower to let the clear water run. When I touched the icy liquid with my fingertips, goose bumps broke out all over my skin. I wasted some seconds staring at the places where the bumps bobbed up, before they descended slowly. It wasn't an easy decision, stepping underneath the cold shower, but then I knew I had nothing to lose even if I froze to death. I would certainly prefer it over some random assassin showing up and gruesomely stabbing me.

If anything, I am a peaceful person by nature. It is my policy not to interfere in situations unless I actually have to do so, and the people who I associate with appreciate that. Unfortunately, you can say that this involves avoiding small talk, because I don't want to end up in awkward situations in the end when there is nothing to speak of.

The reason why I am telling you all this is because the other day, I happened to visit the flower shop from across the street to pick up a bouquet for a colleague who had gotten sick. She'd denied going to the closest shinobi hospital to check things out, and I just wanted to do something nice. I doubt if she'd treat those flowers like her prized possession or something.

Were they lilies or roses? I honestly wasn't focused on the flowers when I had bought them, because there was this little girl with wide, ocean-blue eyes who peered up at me from behind the stack of hydrangeas and lilies kept on the counter. Her small blonde head bobbed up suddenly, and I realized with a start that the girl had been crouching all along.

"So, what do you need?"

The question was blunt, precise and to the point – no wasting time on any social niceties. Of course, she was the headstrong Yamanaka that we all know and adore, and she wasn't wearing her usual purple ensemble.

"A get-well message." I eyed the fragrant roses wistfully, thinking how lovely they'd look in my rather dank and miserable little flat, all the while feeling the figurative hole in my trousers where I had kept my money. My gaze flickered over to her for a moment, uneasiness creeping into the back of my mind. It was disconcerting to know a lot about the girl, including her brazen personality and vague details of her life, without her knowing anything about me.

She packed a bunch of assorted flowers and handed them over to me. I quickly snatched them from her grasp, slapped down a few bills before hurrying down the steps and practically running across the uneven streets. Ino Yamanaka must've shot me a tureen of weird looks, but I didn't exactly notice those. Anyway, you must be thinking that with all my grace in trying to avoid unforeseen conversations, I'd kill myself in two seconds flat. In fact, you may even be true. With my luck, I could step in horseshit by submitting myself to Kirigakure authorities and announcing that I have a very hazy knowledge on the future.

That is, I'd be killed unless they are concerned enough about my mental welfare enough to call the medical authorities in.

By now, I suppose you've deduced that I am nothing short of one of those annoying pessimists. I'd like to announce something cheesy like "I'm pessimistic and proud", but we aren't exactly going to have a parade about that, if you know what I mean.

On another topic, Konoha is a humongous city, home to several thousand people who cause daily chaos in the streets. I know I've been on the receiving end of all that city mayhem several times, and I am not going to go into too much detail about how I've had oranges thrown at my back once. My late mother had always told me that I have a penchant for trouble, and I know she's just grinning in heaven and playing cards. Mom, thanks for your prediction, in case you are listening.

Back to the point, as I seem to be getting side tracked many times by silly incidents and thoughts, Konoha is like every other ancient Japanese city, except that it has lovely elemental ninja and computers, even though they are bulky and look like they are from the nineties. Kishimoto, with all due respect, really?

One thing which I am sure you are all curious to know is whether I have met other characters apart from our lovely flower girl. Konoha isn't exactly huge, and in my four years of being here, by your reasoning, I must've at least caught sight of members of the future Konoha Twelve, right?

Uzumaki was almost six when I'd first shown up in Konoha, and he wasn't exactly an exuberant kid. But truth be told, I'd had my first good look at him when he was about nine. There was this monstrous courtyard in the orphanage outlined by sturdy Sakura trees – not monstrous in the sense that it was frightening, but colossal and vast – and it is my job to keep its grounds free of any dead petals. Its atmosphere was constantly filled with the resonant cries of children, and I'd spotted the nine year old blond sitting under one specific tree near a rusty gate, a quiet and wistful expression on his face.

Let me tell you right now that adapting to an alien world like Konoha wasn't easy for me. If it weren't for the kind people at the orphanage who'd brought me a place to work for my meals and shelter, I'd be rotting in the streets like many others. I was a little preoccupied to go about minding about what Konoha signified and its what its characters meant to me – no, they weren't characters anymore. They were living, breathing people.

I think the significance of that rattled me – seeing a subdued Naruto in person for the first time and knowing him _suffocated_ me.

Sorry for being melodramatic, but it is what it is. I can't suddenly decide to develop a 'to hell with all' attitude, because that is just how life rolls.

Uzumaki was under the tree. I clenched my broom a little harder, because even though we were separated by several meters, the scenery around the blond – of children just flying around and laughing, of stern caretakers waiting for the curfew alarm – just slowed down like a motion film. I saw him, and that was it.

You can be mad at me for not developing the courage to go up to him and offer him my hand. I suppose for all my preaching about my sister and my own thoughts regarding the villagers' abuse of the Kyūbi jinchūriki , I wasn't so different from the former. I was an observer in the sidelines, not willing to do anything for the fear I'd get involved in too much trouble, which could end up costing me my life.

To see the right and not to do it is cowardice, and that saying is true in my experience.

By all means, you can call me a coward.

I found myself sneaking into Uzumaki's poorly kept room and arranging a bunch of foil packed steaming ramen on his table, before securely shutting the door when I slipped out, when the guilt became too much to handle.

The next evening, Uzumaki was gone.

I was at the Orphanage mess at eight in the morning, arranging meals on the table for the youngsters who'd be up in another thirty minutes. There were others who were helping, when all of a sudden - from around the bend of the nearest corridor - there was an exclamation.

A loud, sharp smack sounded like a clap of thunder, and I heard confused murmurs all about me. There wasn't any time to process what was happening, and I could distinctly hear hysterical male shouts. Abandoning our task, we all proceeded in the direction of the commotion, eager to see what the entire pandemonium was.

I caught sight of a shock of blond hair, and a huge red welt on tear tracked cheeks. A familiar man had his back turned to me, facing the cowering boy with raised fists.

Uzumaki sullenly stared at the ground, even as a crowd collected around him. I desperately looked around to understand the scene.

" _You get out of this room, you hear, boy!"_ The gravelly voice of the man shook the wooden beams holding up the roof. I couldn't see what was happening clearly when another bunch of people and children blocked my view, but there was another sharp smack, and it didn't take a genius to figure out what the hell that was. There were a few more exclamations from the people around me, and I heard a solid crunch and saw small, pudgy, bloodied fingers.

My mind got scrambled when I heard a child's pained moans. And all around me, I precariously searched for assistance – for someone recognizable. I saw Sasaki, Sasaki with her kind smiles and warm, welcoming hands, and I missed my footing for a second when I saw a hardened, impassive look on her face. It seemed that the people around me weren't simply detached; they had blood-curdling satisfactory looks as they watched on, shooing other children away from the scene as they continued to enjoy it. I was stifled with a sudden fear.

Who were these people? How could I've depended on them when they showed cruelty to a mere nine year old?

"Lord, that demon gets away with everything. He's getting what he deserves now." A woman behind me whispered.

"But he is a kid."

She shot me a strange look.

"You seriously don't know?"

I inhaled deeply. By definition, a coward was a person who, in a perilous emergency, thinks with his legs. By all intents and purposes, I wasn't thinking with my legs at the moment. No, my legs were just weakened.

 _You are just a bystander. You can't do anything. You are a flea; insignifican_ t.

The warring voices in my head were driving me insane. I could feel invisible fingers tearing raw wounds on my skin, picking at it continuously in tandem to the whimpers of a helpless boy. Not a Hokage yet, but a boy.

Diving into the crowd and cleaving a blind path, I stopped in front of the boy, who looked at me with stricken, swollen eyes. Adrenalin raced through my veins as I turned my own to the boy's assaulter, before freezing in shock; I just had tea with the man a mere week ago.

His steely gaze turned confused.

Jaw clenched, I took a shuddering step forward. My skin was sweaty and clammy; I felt faint. Far away, I thought of the college degree I was going to get in another month had I been at home. But that was what it was - far away. Unreachable.

"Don't create a scene here." I looked over my shoulder at the boy.

"Let him go."

I guess he was drunk, for he thwacked me in his furious haze of mind. I gaped, and gaped, and I would have laughed if the situation weren't so _surreal_. I stumbled back, before advancing forward and swinging one solid fist.

It met the man's nose with a crunch, and I drove it all the way in, thinking about Uzumaki – no, a mere boy's pained cries. Proud, stupid Uzumaki, whose only mistake was to be in the wrong place at a wrong time. Blood splattered on the floor, and I looked down to see crimson drops on Uzumaki's head, his mouth quivering in shock.

I think he swallowed a little, for I swallowed too.


	3. Chapter 3

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* * *

 _Chapter 3_

* * *

Sometimes, I feel as though I am suspended in cool, clear water. I can see things happening around me, but I make no move to disrupt or prevent those things from happening. Swimming in the cool water makes me look around slowly, assessing each and everything from a nice angle. People talk – talk with their mouths wide open. I stare at their faces, seeing them smile, frown or shriek or smirk. It makes me feel suspended. Then I just shut my eyes for a second, before opening them, and everything is clear once again.

Back in my hometown, there was this small brook on the opposite side of an old, parched field. I'd wheel my sister over the uneven ground whenever I could – lord knows the stuffy atmosphere of our flat couldn't be any healthy – stumbling and losing my grasp of her wheelchair's handle a few times along the way. We'd stop when we were just a few feet away from the blue, sputtering brook, and just breathe. Life was uncomplicated then. It was fairly simple.

When I glanced down to see my knuckles, they had a red patch glistening on them– not gory, no nothing like that. Something dull, not fresh – a dull, meaty shade of red. I met Uzumaki's wide, cerulean eyes, and gazed into them steadily. A drop of blood bloomed on his forehead. I mightn't have noticed it that time, but those cuts on his face were slowly glossing over – they were healing. I'd later look at the kid and stupidly wonder how that was possible. I felt suspended in an endless sea. I could hear nothing but the roar of water, when it was just blood rushing to my face with full force.

Someone hissed from behind and caught my arms – I think it was Sasaki. I couldn't see her face, but I knew that it reflected questions.

Allowing her to catch me for a second, I reined myself to the imaginary shore in my mind, away from the sea and onto the bank. Uzumkai was not on the floor anymore, and I guess he must've scampered off somewhere safe and out from the scrutiny of the public. The very same public who'd been just close enough to witness the backhands delivered to him by one of their own.

I think Sasaki dragged me to my bedroom, and no one followed me.

"Are you crazy?"

It took a few seconds for me to focus, and another couple to hazily observe my surroundings.

"This is not my room." I stated politely. Sasaki gave me one hardened look, before blurting out her question again. I shrugged, before turning to unbolt the woman's door and leave to clean the courtyard yet again. Sasaki caught my shoulder.

"Ton-san, what was that over there?" Her grip tightened, and I placed my hot temple against the panes of the door, cooling off for a while.

"No, it's nothing. You don't have to worry about it."

"Why'd you hit Hiro-kun?"

"Oh, I didn't like him."

I waited for the inevitable incredulity and her arched eyebrow, but it never came. What I got instead was an impassioned snort.

"You are suicidal, aren't you? He is very violent when he is drunk. Why did you go asking for trouble?"

Not meeting her eyes, I gripped the frame of the door harder, before exhaling. Flames of nervousness and inexplicable excitement climbed up the walls of my stomach, and I realized I had a way out. I could smell Sasaki's subtle sandalwood musk from behind. The lantern was dimly glowing above.

Sasaki faltered, looking at the ground.

"Besides..." She had a clouded, pinched look on her face. "It is not good to be around that child. He's a dangerous demon."

"A demon?" Feigning ignorance, I turned around with a frown. "I don't understand, Sasaki-san. Why did he hit a boy like that?"

The woman's eyes widened imperceptibly, before she licked her lower lips in tell-tale anxiety, gaze flitting about like a nervous butterfly. The folds of her yukata shook slightly in the breeze coming in through the open window at one corner of the room. It was starting to get a bit chilly.

"You mean, you don't know?" She whispered. "You don't know about the demon? Ton-san, I do not believe you for a second."

I shifted uncomfortably, getting edgy with each passing moment. I wanted to ditch Sasaki, maybe tell her that I had a long day and that I was tired. Maybe she'd understand me then. But, at the same time, I could work out an excuse. Losing the job over a fight like this could be expected if Hiro was the type to go off and whine pitifully into the waiting, bored ears of the higher ups at the civilian council who handled the orphanage with distaste. Kissing the job goodbye and landing into the pit of fire wasn't an option, not for me.

Determined to milk my excuse for all I was worth to secure my position, I caught Sasaki's palms, feeling jittery and cold-footed all of a sudden.

"Listen, uh, would you tell Hiro that it was an accident?" I pleaded, disgust raking down my spine untill my fitful breathing became more pronounced. Slimy people were all around me, slimy, conniving people who never failed to stoop to a chance of abusing children, Kyuubi or not. On the other hand, as chilling as it seemed to me, I felt that I could sympathize with the people who hated Uzumaki.

Most of those who sneered at the boy and regarded him as dirt which stuck to the soles of their sandals were adults like me or older, who had lived through the short period where Konoha had seen utter destruction with Madara's unleashing of the Kyuubi. Most of them, unlike me, had probably lost their relatives – distant or otherwise – to the rubble of buildings in the aftermath of the disaster or by fire which broke out at multiple places. I didn't know them personally; but I did know that hate and bitterness was the driving force behind their actions.

I had a feeling that I'd be subdued in front of Uzumaki if I had known a person who'd died that night a decade ago. I probably wouldn't have let the rage consume me enough to thrash the boy, but as horrible as it sounded, I am sure I wouldn't have stepped in like I did today.

Truth is, even though I know Uzumaki was just an innocent container – nothing more but a jar to store something as malicious as Konoha's ultimate weapon of mass destruction – an irrational part of me feared him.

Hey, I am the coward. I don't think you expected me to kiss Uzumaki's ass.

"…on-san?" Sasaki's delicate features hovered above me, and I observed her silently. Her beautiful, soft face morphed into something terrible and haunting for a second, before capsizing into something more gentle and familiar.

"It was just an impulse." I must've scared her with my lack of responsiveness, for her eyes were alarmed when she comforted me. "It was just an impulse. You hit the man on impulse. I'll go and apologize to him for you."

I think the confounding miasma of emotions I'd been feeling at that moment must've clouded my face. What was my next step?

"Ton-san?"

"I'm good." I hadn't realized that I was on the floor, leaning against the teak fusuma panels of the strong door. Sasaki's soft brown hair brushed against my face she got up, hoisting me up by my palm as she did. I allowed myself to me lulled by her ministrations, but try as I might, I couldn't forget that impassiveness on her face when she'd stared at Uzumaki's bloody fingers.

* * *

In the end, I didn't get myself entangled in a messy, legal mess, because it was Konoha, where people wouldn't bat an eyelash even if you got your fingers sliced off. Brawls between men were all too common, luckily. I met Hiro once or twice in the halls the following week, and Sasaki must've worked her charm on him for he gave me a rude grunt as he _accidentally_ bumped past me. I almost lost a couple of plates thanks to _that_ obnoxious move. Life went on, and I suppose I failed to mention that Uzumaki left the very day he was thrown about like a ball. While I hardly think it was because he wanted to, I do think he decided to leave because he was sick of his lifestyle at the orphanage. I wasn't surprised, but my heart ached a bit, for some incoherent reason.

"He's lucky the ANBU let him go." Suzuki said, stuffing his mouth with some last minute _onigri_. I sat down on a stool near the dining table.

"Hiro-san?"

"Yeah. Are you all right? I heard you got smashed in the face."

"I am good."

He grimaced.

"He must've had a death wish to go against tha' kid like a firecracker. Since last year, rules have been pretty strict about tha' boy."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, the Hokage doesn't want anyone laying a hand on him." He coughed. "If you ask me, tha' old man has some mental issues to be with the kid."

Suzuki's disregard for authoritative figures completely opposed Sasaki's puritan ideals. It entertained me.

"And why is that? Because of his 'problem'?"

He gave me a long look, toweling his hands.

"Nah, not because of that. The kid is a natural prankster, you know? Reminds me of tha' old Habanero."

Habenero...the word sounded familiar.

"Kushina Uzumaki?"

"Yea'. She was in my adjacent class at the Academy. Grew up to be a vicious thing. She an' the brat must share some history."

I hid a smile behind my cupped hands.

"I think that's it."

* * *

It was boring in the weeks following that, and my dark house was big and expansive. It was sparsely furnished, having only what I strictly needed and no more than that. Toying with the idea of returning to the immobile arms of my sister was dangerous, especially because I had drowned all my hopes in one big pool of impossibility. I couldn't go back – I had no explanation of how I'd ended up in this world.

Finding an explanation wasn't going to be easy, but I wasn't ignorant or blind enough to not consider a plausible reason as to why I'd ended up here. How was I to know if I was just in a long-term coma, having weirdly realistic dreams? A normal person would go crazy every once in a while, and what was the probability that I was one such person? Was I frothing at my sister's feet at this moment, mumbling Japanese and tossing and turning?

It wasn't easy to snuff out the spark of hope that came into existence whenever I had stray thoughts of going back home, but I was seldom idle to think about such things in my exhaustive work at the orphanage. Back home, when I was just Tanya, I was never entrusted with kids or their tireless pranks. While I can say that I am certainly not clumsy, I was awkward at handling children – painfully so.

Maybe it was because I grew up around people who had motives – most of them motivated by greed or extreme selfishness – that I expected children to follow the same pattern as adults. I never could adjust myself around their naïve smiles and laughs. The only things they were motivated by were their games, such as the lovely Ninja Dash, a warped version of Tag by which I'd been troubled compulsively on multiple occasions, and food.

Some kids were motivated to fight by becoming a member of the shinobi task-force, which was a bit disturbing to me. I was unfamiliar with the idea of child soldiers – for that was what genin and some chuunin were –being commonplace.

My first time being on the receiving end of a sharp kunai – not the blunt, toy ones that the orphanage had a tiresome stock of to keep kids preoccupied – wasn't how I'd thought it would go. Well, I had dreamt of these scenarios where my secrets would be exposed and the ruthless Danzo would emerge from the sleazy sewers and interrogate me mercilessly for the greater good of Konoha.

"Hey!" My exclamation went unnoticed, because another one of those damned shinobi contraptions tore into the loose sleeves of my traditional ensemble, before hitting the greying pillar facing the courtyard over to my left with a sound clunk.

Quickly ducking for cover, I slipped behind one of the numerous pillars, heart thundering valiantly. I had a feeling if Kishimoto had made me a heroine in Naruto, I'd have him bankrupt in no time at all.

A childish giggle sounded from behind, to my complete bafflement.

This first thing I saw were large brown buns – I don't mean the eatable ones – perched atop a small head, before seeing giddy chocolate brown eyes. Pink cheeks reddened when I scowled at the culprit, who of course had to be the orphaned weapons mistress. I never thought she'd be coming after me, even after hearing all of my colleagues' exasperated complaints about 'the girl in the second floor playing with weapons'. The child shuffled back when my scowl intensified tenfold.

"Tenten." I sighed finally, woefully looking at my shredded sleeves.

"Yes miss?" She squeaked.

"Nice shot."

* * *

Sasaki burst into the courtyard, nearly tripping over her wooden sandals.

"You are in!" she screamed, her voice almost bordering on hysterical. For a while, I just stared at the woman dubiously, and a few children playing hide-and-seek bolted out of her way as she ran towards me, her neat plait in disarray. I had no idea in nine hells what she was talking about.

I gestured around the huge courtyard with my broom.

"I was just sweeping-"

"Never mind that!" Sasaki interrupted, an excited gleam visible in her eyes as she covered the distance between us. "You've been selected."

I think the blood drained from my face on hearing that.

 _Oh, man. Not that. Anything but that._


	4. Chapter 4

.

* * *

 _Chapter 4_

* * *

When I was an adorable and oblivious kid with chubby cheeks and a cheekiness which rivaled my ego, I used to think of many things. Of all things, I wanted to become a teacher. Now, I didn't have any personal issues with teachers at the time, for my world was only restricted to my parents, my sister and my kindergarten teachers. Let's say that my parents were away for the better part of my early years.

If you ask me where they were in the majority of those years, I don't really have an answer. I still catch glimpses of glittering diamond earrings, broken necklaces and weeping faces, but I lose them before I can think too deeply into it. The point is, I grew real close to my kindergarten teachers. I was spoiled by them – I was the kid whose parents were practically invisible. They fascinated me. I wanted to become a teacher.

When I grew up, reality changed, and I forgot about my dream of becoming a teacher for a while. I was busy with my life like any other teenager, but I'll spare you the boring details. When I entered college, I could barely keep up with my class of prodigies and geniuses, because of all the tiresome professors I'd had. Maybe I can use the excuse that I was too dumb to catch on with the rest of my classmates, and I am not denying that is true, but along the way, I lost interest in the bright world of studies and tutoring.

When I look at professors, all I could see is wise, lonely men or women who couldn't really give a crap about their next class. The funny thing is, having those kinds of professors made me work even more hard for that ideal life of pie and television that I'd always wanted.

When Sasaki circled me like a blood-thirsty vulture, eager to coax a reaction from me, all I could do was to stand there and gape at the pebble-dotted ground. This was the outcome that I'd desperately wanted to avoid, obviously. Wait, I know you don't know what the heck I am talking about, so let us rewind back a few months. There was a recent brainstorming session with the Hokage and his council, which was also attended by the representatives of the civilian sector.

The conversation was smoothly steered over to the topic of Konoha's one and only Shinobi Academy. I forgot the name, but a civilian minister, from what I'd heard, suggested new subjects in the academy's official curriculum. This was immediately rejected, but the topic of new subjects had already created an uproar. Someone or the other complained about the lack of staff at the Ninja Academy, and the civilian minister interjected that they were low on staff in the civilian academic institution as well, and one thing led to another.

Suzuki from our orphanage was present in the council, and he said someone ended up being dragged away because they had hurled a soled wooden sandal at the minister of finances. It turned out to be quite ugly.

The civilian ministers were convinced that they were being discriminated, and called for measures to be made to equalize shinobi and civilians. At the end of the session, there was a unanimous agreement to increase civilian staff at the Ninja Academy.

But the question was, of all people, what exactly were _civilians_ going to teach future killers?

I did some useless digging, and here is what I'd found. Over thirty-five per cent of the staff at the Academy was promoted to higher services, including field duties, after the Kyuubi attack, when security was made tight. History was an official part of the Academy's curriculum, but its portions were glossed over by chūnin teachers most of the time, not that students complained about it. But ignorance of earlier events in Konoha was at large among the kids, based on the copies of their previous test papers in theory. Another thing was that the to-be genin didn't have a proper understanding of geography. An essential understanding of geography is required for surveillance missions, and it is also vital for tracking missions. These were the things the Academy needed to improve on. Besides, there were classes for future kunoichi, which taught them various acts of etiquette which were required for information-extraction missions, often disguised as seduction. These classes included the traditional art of tea-brewing, stitching, learning how to play the _shamisen_ and other ceremonial instruments and the art of seduction. It doesn't require a lot of thinking on one's part to know that there is something really creepy about teaching such stuff to pre-teen girls.

Of all places, the recruitment was done from the orphanage. That made sense, I suppose, but I think the Hokage or whoever it was in charge of the entire thing failed to take into account that _we_ were low on staff as well. A chūnin brought in a bunch of question papers and handed them over to the orphanage head, who scheduled the recruitment test. Of course, at that time, I and the others had no idea we were taking one, being under the impression that it was a standard procedure. The questions were divided into two main sections – theory and practical. Theory questioned us on Konoha's history – stuff which ranged from its founding fathers to Tobirama's treaties with Kumogakure, the Leaf's politics and geography. Practical had questions in which we were given hypothetical situations – stuff like what we'd do if we were faced with a spy, and what we were supposed to do when we were caught by an interrogator.

Being the fool I was, I hadn't thought much of the test and gave it my all. I arrived in Konoha with zero knowledge that I was actually in Konoha. I didn't know the barest basics of Japanese, much less touch Konoha's books. And I tell you, after I'd gotten a decent handle on the language, I cracked books in the nearest library to get a good understanding of Konoha. I was intent on getting down all useful information. The legendary Sannin, the Biju, jinchuurikki – I spent nights trying to coordinate and store as much info and dirt as I possibly could in my mind, in case they could be of any use in the near future, for I knew that disasters were going to happen. Knowing Konoha's story, of what would happen in the near future made me feel like I had an edge over others. Not knowing what to do with the information of the past and the future of the city I was staying in aggravated me.

My mind was torn, even as Sasaki came into focus. She held my gaze intensely, and I shifted my weight from foot to foot uncomfortably when I read pride in her startling eyes.

"You nerd!" She accused me with a sharp forefinger, bowling over and laughing.

"Stop it." I muttered, pushing her away as she dumped her weight on me in her laughter.

"Why, you'll frighten away all the children!" She gasped for air in between her peals, and I caught her elbow, smiling faintly.

"Ton-san, you are like a…a strict giraffe."

I raised my eyebrow in turn, even as my throat got parched with fear and red embers of fury burned in my mind at the irrational thought that I'd been cheated, cheated to land in a trying situation in which I had no intention to land in the first place. This was out of my hand, and later on, I'd often wonder if the Gods really had it in for me.

Sasaki's dimples became more pronounced as she grinned at me.

"I can't believe you'll get to teach at the academy!" Her grin softened as she peered at my face, which I guess must've been showing some of my inner monologue.

"Well, I can't offer any assurance that you'll not scare the kids away, but you'll do fine, Ton-san."

"Yeah, I'll just go now." I felt discomfited with her encouragement. It wasn't like Sasaki had to stick with me or anything. Besides, I had a feeling that she was not all she was to unsuspecting eyes. I knew there was something more to her – a secret uncovered.

"Aww," Brown strands falling forward to frame her face, she leaned against my shoulder and dug in a persistent elbow. "The big, bad Ton-san is shy!"

I had no desire whatsoever to learn that secret of hers, whatever it was.

"How many others were selected, Sasaki-san?"

"Four or five." She tapped her forehead, brows furrowed as she attempted to recollect. "I didn't stop to read their names. You'll come to know later on, I guess. Just be ready next week to meet Umino. He'll introduce you to the work. I've met him once, and he's a decent kid; has all the makings of a workaholic."

"He sounds fun." I commented dryly, before patting the woman's shoulder briskly and sauntering ahead to the gates. The sun was setting, and Sasaki's news had settled in my stomach like a piece of heavy lead. Walking home - or should I say temporary housing arrangement - I had a sour taste in my mouth, and I couldn't help but think how I had gone and landed myself in a pit of snakes. Sooner or later, my big mouth would betray me and I'd find a place in the depraved, decaying corners of a musty cell in the bowels of Konoha's official interrogation centre. The reason why I'd not chosen to babble out my story to ask for help back to my oh-so-wonderful home and sister was because I am not a suicidal person by nature. For four busy years, I checked myself to not utter a word of my past or my kind-of-pointless knowledge of a _cartoon_ for the fear of being tortured for it.

It sounds horrifying and comical at the same time, doesn't it? Let me make the scenario more clear to you – I was stranded in a cartoon, mentally running for my own cartoonish existence by shutting my mouth up.

But what puzzled me was how realistic everything was to me. There were no large eyes – none of that bullshit. I think that was what made me empathetic to my fellow Konoha citizens.

At the end of the day, I only had loneliness and resignation etched in the shrouded corners of my mind. Sounds dramatic, doesn't it?

* * *

It was raining the day I had to step into the academy and embrace a whole new world of craziness, which most likely included children who'd slowly be shaped into killers. The stark truth of that would've chilled me if I had given a damn, but I didn't, and so my quest to not appear as a bumbling fool in front of Umino had begun. I had no idea what this entire teaching business entailed, but I was satisfied with the thought that it would land a hefty paycheck in my hands. Living with my sis has made me fully appreciate money.

I was the kid who was literally bathed in money, before it was taken away from me without any warning. So you say that the firm concrete floor I'd been standing on securely with my sis had given way, and we were dependent on the earnings from my part time job. When I arrived at the engraved gates of the Academy, I did all I could do in order to avoid getting trampled by the sea of parents eagerly milling about to converse with each other and drop their children off for their first day.

"Excuse me, excuse me-"

I politely elbowed my way through the massive crowd, searching vainly for Umino. He wasn't exactly the sort you'd expect to stand out in cluster of people, you know?

I could've sworn that a flash of blond hair appeared in my line of vision, before disappearing.

Exaggeration may be my forte, but I am definitely not stretching the truth when I said that I am very tall. Contrary to what some tall girls might moan in melancholia, I do not think my height is a disadvantage. For one, the kids in my old neighborhood were constantly scared whenever I'd appear around the bend, shopping bags in tow. I guess there is something about my lengthy gaze that inspires childish terror. It doesn't help that I have an oblong face.

I had a feeling that Umino was shorter than me.

I ran a hand over my head, flattening my short hair. Someone nudged me from behind, and the touch reminded me of the gentle cows on one of mother's ranch.

"Umino-sensei!" Startled, I met the chuunin's friendly gaze. Sure enough, he was short.

"I hope you haven't been here too long." He said apologetically, and I think I stared at the fascinating silvery scar running across his nose bridge for some seconds, because I heard him clear his throat.

Unfazed, I blurted out the first thing which came to my mind.

"Uh, I've heard that you are passionate about your work." I felt my eyebrows twitching.

The silence which followed was a bit awkward for me, but presumably comfortable enough for him, for his lips curved into a congenial smile without missing a beat.

"I am pleased to make your acquaintance, sensei." I added hastily, preferring to look at the scenery of parents and nervous kids above his head rather than his face. It wasn't because I was shy, oh no, but because I had a feeling that I would shamelessly observe his silvery scar if I did.

"There isn't any need to be formal." He remarked, before turning around. "It is rather rushed, isn't it? We've been receiving more students each year."

"Are there any others? New teachers, I mean."

"Some arrived early. They are exploring their new classes, as we speak." He spoke, absently looking at a sobbing girl being comforted by her parents. "We have a lot of work to do."

He sighed, before looking at me.

"You'll do a fine job." Umino paused, and I sort of knew what was coming next, so I braced myself.

"Ton-san, isn't it?"

As always, I grew strangely protective of my fairly new and admittedly weird name.

"It is." I confirmed flatly.

He smiled a beatific smile.

"Welcome to the Academy, sensei."

The honorific took me aback. Well, it was just the beginning, after all. And a good beginning, in my case, might lead to a good end. Or so I wished. With that in mind, I returned a serene smile.

* * *

 ** _Would appreciate thoughts or crit on this chapter._**


	5. Chapter 5

.

* * *

 _Chapter 5_

* * *

It wasn't like I was going to write a test to become a teacher and _bam_ , save my students from future godzillas by having future visions. If anything, that is the product of a disappointing lack of imagination. The offer was on the table.

Did I want to become one? If not, there were plenty others who'd be willing to jump in the seat. True, I was apprehensive, hesitation was my middle name, but I'd be a fool to let the opportunity slip through my clumsy fingers without giving it a second thought.

So here I was, settling my things in a neat little pile in the shelf that I'd been assigned to in the staff hall. I shot the other inmates of the room what I am pretty sure was a constipated smile, and they didn't bat an eyelash, going about their own business.

Some of them didn't seem to be morning people, especially when it came to teaching little brats with no sense of propriety whatsoever – I should know, I spent half of my time around these buggers for no reason at all in the orphanage – and there was one guy sitting in the corner and scowling at his tremendous stack of answer papers, going through them with such a vengeance that I genuinely thought that the pen in his hand was the sword of Gryffindor. There was a brief flash of crimson on white, and I saw round circles of red and slashes on paper, which was enough to make me wince.

Iruka came into the room, and there was an instantaneous change. Backs straightened, and all chatter ceased. I was midway stuffing my mouth with a dumpling, and I couldn't simply swallow everything down when he directed that keen gaze at me.

"Umph-?" I offered, and resisted the urge to choke when the force of the room's attention thwacked me on my back.

Iruka's popularity wasn't surprising, and his respect among the chunin was infamous, which must've had something to do with the fact that he was the one who gave the okay for their pay checks in the end.

"How are you doing, Ton-san?"

My facial muscles weren't working. Mind screaming 'abort, abort' like some rhythmic doomsday alarm, my lips curved into one painful smile, which made Iruka wince.

"She is our new trainee, so let's all take care of her for the next semester." His voice was light and pleasant, with an undercurrent of reassurance.

Murmurs filled the room.

"Why don't you introduce yourself?"

A guy lazily slouching on one of the seats called out. His spiky hair and lidded eyes pretty much confirmed where _he_ came from.

"Well, my name is Ton, uh." I didn't really know what to say when obviously disinterested and bored eyes beheld me.

"I hope you'll lead me through the year. Not promising to be the best, heh, but I'll do what I can."

I trailed off as someone scoffed. I coughed, picking up my satchel.

"Iruka!"

A red head poked through the door way, breaking the decidedly awkward atmosphere. The low, monotonous drone of voices resumed, and one or two rare species even gave me a welcoming smile. The hostile environment was natural, I guessed.

"Come on, Ton-san."

I hastily dragged my feet through the room, moving after Iruka.

"You'll spend your morning in Izanami's class." He murmured as I came close, and my gaze snapped to the sharp-looking woman standing in front of me. She had an absentminded, faraway look on her face, and she dipped her head briefly when she saw me. I returned the gesture, mind bursting with numerous questions. I supposed I could wait for them.

Getting into a post at the Academy wasn't as simple as taking a test and filling a position. The test that I had taken was merely for the purpose of aptitude, testing my knowledge on general situations and topics.

I wasn't a teacher, no, not yet. They asked me. I don't know what in the nine hells I'd been thinking, for my answer was a yes. And then that was that. I became a trainee under Iruka's _'capable hands'_ , as I had been told by the goddamn Hokage.

Believe me; I wasn't very thrilled when Iruka had popped up at my doorstep one fine morning, dragging me off to the Hokage tower. And the chūnin was every inch the right-hand-man, and it was amusing to see the parallels of how the Hokage interacted with Iruka and Naruto.

" _Good-morning. I hope you are refreshed."_

Oh, how dandy the old man had looked, hat perched nimbly on top of his wizened little head and pipe in his mouth, the same mouth that would determine my fate if he came to realize that I was an alien in his cozy village.

' _Good-effin-morning'_ , I had echoed in my head, before making my way to the desk and bowing till my stomach folded over itself like a sandwich. Iruka raised an eyebrow at my acrobatics, which meant he was conveying that it was overkill on my part.

 _"I hope you know that it is an honour to be drawn into our ranks."_

I remember bristling, for I did not like what he was implying. What ranks?

 _"I am sure Iruka must've informed you about the teaching Academy."_

Well, he had done nothing of the sort. I had contemplated him with a quelling glance.

 _"I would like more information on it, if you don't mind."_

And then he had proceeded to explain more about the topic, and briskly elucidated that it was nothing to worry about when he saw the blood draining from my face as rapidly as pee from a torn diaper. From what I gathered, it was an Academy specially catered towards the training of future teachers, but it was currently out of order due to the 'lack of staff', as I was told.

Hah. To think that I regarded it as a torture chamber of some sort. Sometimes my own mind defies my expectations.

And the rest of the conversation pretty much meant downhill. Translation – I was robotic, well, most of the time, and Iruka had to save my ass.

When he hauled us out of there, I immediately went to have some Sake, because _ohmylord_ I had met the Hokage.

" _Well, that was an embarrassment."_ Iruka had glanced at me, exasperated.

Speaking of embarrassment, I went into Izanami's class to have a whole damn bucket of water crashing down on my head. It made things – including my cotton top – transparent, and I squeaked like an offended, drenched mouse, glowering mercilessly at the class, who broke into hysteria.

The lady looked at me apologetically, straightening her knobbly glasses.

Sometimes, I wonder why I wasn't thrown into the Harry Potter Land, or even reincarnated as Voldemort, for heaven's sake. I could do well without a bloody nose; anything but dripping wet in front of a bunch of children who I was supposed to cater to in the next semester or so.

There was nothing more to be said.

* * *

Winters in Konoha were bloody cold in the night, though mild at day. I wrapped my cloak tightly around myself, heading for the Academy gates. It was a nice, controlled pattern. Save for the Uchiha fiasco, and by that I mean poor Itachi being forced to subjugate to an evil overload by the name Danzō and kill an entire line of Uchiha except for his little bro, nothing eventful had happened.

Two years had passed by since the time I was recruited by my own will. My first year was spend miserably as a trainee, and Sasaki had me prepping for whatever tests Iruka set up for me. I was made to observe and catalogue mostly everything related to Konoha's culture, the Founding and so on, my brain soaking up whatever it could. The other trainees from the orphanage met up with me whenever we could at the local barbecue, _Yakiniku-Q_ , to bemoan the rigmarole that we were put through.

Hell, I don't remember having this much fun when I was back home. Thoughts of my sis stung, and I found it easier to bury thoughts more than I probably should.

I got my first batch a year ago, and they were soon-to-be genin; fourth years who'd be assigned in teams of three to a sensei. I presume most of them were wearing shiny forehead protectors and chilling in D-Ranks while I climbed the small snow hill to the Academy's entrance.

It was awkward in the beginning, to say the least. But I'd struck a companionship with them by the end of the year, and dare I say it, I felt sorry to see them go. There were a few Uchiha kids in my batch, and when they walked through the class door on the last day, a bell had ominously clanged, signalling an end. They didn't come back the next day. I still remember their names.

There is no explanation why I had attended the mass funeral, probably out of guilt. I didn't do anything, and there was nothing that I could do, as far as I knew, because the Hokage had a hand in this. I knew that.

Teaching kids is a precious experience.

You see how they grow in a short time. Their repertoire of knowledge increases as you teach them, like feisty saplings, like a determined acorn. The progress makes you stop in your tracks and be dumbfounded, because they are adapting your ideals and knowledge and creating something wholesome.

Somehow, I became too involved. I suppose that is where things got dangerous.

I was ready to face my second batch today, and Iruka had provided the background files. I was up all night going through them.

What I could do, I would do it right.

Okay, the kids were absolute devils at times. They irritated me. Always running about with no sense of dignity, wailing at the slightest of disruptions – I couldn't even drop an accusation against one of them for the fear that they might burst into tears, which was a horrifying prospect.

The unmitigated truth was that they all resented me, which was fine by me. A scowl was all it took for them to sit on their rumps. I had been a substitute once for the newly admitted first years, and I wasn't at all a pleasant experience. Fourth years were awesome.

The rule of thumb that all students were supposed to follow – out of, oh, maybe moral obligation? – was silence whenever a goddamn teacher walked through the doors with a constipated look on their face, which I am sure I must've worn when I walked in.

Of course, these kids had no sense of propriety whatsoever, and were creating quite the pandemonium in the first five minutes of what was possibly my second teaching year – which, by the way, looked more like a joke with each passing second.

"Yano, you little shit!"

"Are you _scared_ , Kiba? Ohoho, whatever are you gonna do?"

"Can you all shut up, for a second?"

I stared resolutely at the wall, even as the silence died down and the number of curious looks directed in my way increased. The peak of the silence was unsurprisingly ruined by a fart, which I presume must have come from someone seated the front row, and quite close to my desk at that, for my senses were overloaded.

There was a volley of giggles and raucous laughter, after which the class mercifully settled down.

"So," I began, slapping my hands on the desk, before massaging the nape of my neck. Was I supposed to give an introduction? I hated introductions.

"I suppose this is the second year batch."

"You suppose?" A shrill, high pitched feminine voice echoed, and the fit of giggles began all over again.

"I suppose you must've repeated a year, Ami." I said, not missing a beat and faintly regretting it, because it caused some sniggers and a childish equivalent of a glare to come from the offender. And it was true, though it was not the fault of the girl, for civilian admissions were tough, for one. It was the reason why only the smartest were picked out, including Haruno Sakura, whose lineage unsurprisingly consisted of traders and mercenaries.

"I am going to be teaching you guys theoretical practices for the year, and it includes touchy topics, which, by the way, if you don't care to learn about," I raised my voice when the murmurs reached a frequency I hated. "I suggest you drop out."

A few snorts, and I shrugged. I could see most of the members of the future Rookie Twelve in the class, excluding those who were allegedly a grade up, like Tenten, Neji and Rock Lee, who I presumed were already under Gai's tutelage.

Choji was staring wistfully at his emptied bag of – I squinted to get a closer look – breadcrumbs, judging by the label.

"Choji," I said patiently. "You can mourn the loss of your bread crumbs later."

Shikamaru straightened to look at his friend with an annoyed look, but Choji merely smiled and nodded.

"So, why did you guys want to be ninja?"

Okay, maybe the question was definitely not the coolest, or the most intimidating, but I genuinely wanted to know their response. I didn't know a lot about icebreakers, but I had a feeling that the entire period would go by with farts and coarse jokes on Yano's part if I didn't deign to do something about it. The second years were having scrunched up looks, and why the hell did I find Sasuke squishable?

Shino appraised me with an unnerving gaze, and I sort of hoped hysterically that he wasn't mentally whispering for his bugs to eat me up. I wish I'd brought a can of insect-repellents from home. Actually, I should shut up. Wishing was a waste of time.

"Ino?" I prompted.

The girl oozed charisma, and I wasn't sure if she recognized me as the weird flower shop customer who had run away at the sight of a prepubescent girl, but she merely flipped her hair and met my eyes steadily.

Confidence.

"And why would you want to know?"

Scratch that. I had apparently mistaken snootiness for charm. I couldn't resist.

"For the same reason I am sure your classmates would like to know that you are your daddy's pampered girl."

Her cheeks acquired a pink, splotchy hue.

"Well," Her voice drowned out the snickers that had dared to come up. The males in the room looked apprehensive at the thought of being in Yamanaka's warpath. Shikamaru looked resigned.

"Well, I'd like to become an interrogator."

"She _would_ be one." Kiba muttered to Uchiha, who pursed his lips, directing a venomous glare towards the blackboard. It seemed that the boy was reconsidering his seating arrangements, and I agreed with him. Akamaru pawed at him in despair.

"Kiba!" Her voice was shrill, and I was amused how Choji and Shikamaru hung their heads in tandem, as though they had been putting up with her since their birth. Knowing the way their infamous clans worked, that was probably the case.

"An interrogator, huh?" I leaned against the mahogany bench, balancing my weight on my elbows.

"Do you guys know Morino Ibiki in T and I? Obviously, Ino knows, and that is because her dad is in that line of work, but anyone else?"

No one had an answer, and considering how the happenings and goings in T and I were kept tightly under wraps even from Konoha's upper echelons, I hardly expected Academy students to know what T and I was all about, let alone the damaged people operating under it.

"T and I is an abbreviation for Torture and Interrogation."

They perked up in interest. There was no sound other than the occasional rustle of the leaves of the _shii_ oaks outside, and the incessant chirp of _kojuki_.

"It is basically a branch for the extraction of information." Ino chirped.

"That," I agreed. "And a convenient place to throw in spies from other nations. The primary objective of the department is to seek information from those who've come with the intention to harm Konoha and its inhabitants."

"It is gory." A brunette with piercing green eyes said, and her hushed voice spoke volumes of her excitement.

"You like that, Touka?" I queried unnecessarily, and she inclined her head briefly.

"Yeah, they torture the info from the unlucky ones." I said, and Ino cringed.

"I am going to be a capable mind reader one day."

"Kami knows you are already." Kiba whispered, and once again, I am at a liberty to point out that it wasn't really a whisper, since the whole class could hear him. Sasuke's expression steadily blackened like a thundercloud, and I momentarily pondered if Kiba was going to be shredded to bits.

Ino shot a nasty glare at Kiba, before turning her nose.

"The Yamanaka clan are adept at all things related to minds." I said as a token of peace.

Ino beamed.

"Mind reading is a tricky thing, because if a mind reader is violent in his actions, he can destroy the minds of his victims. A destroyed mind is not a happy place. Can you imagine a person getting into your head and scrambling all your memories?"

The class held their breaths, and I continued.

"It takes a lot of skill, though." I smirked at Ino. "Think you can handle it, girl?"

She would. She'd be instrumental in the Fourth Shinobi War, which would inevitably led to her father's demise. But she didn't have to know that.

"Of course I can!" She puffed up her chest, sneaking a vindictive glance at Sakura. I took it as an incentive to continue, and I am not sure where the words came from, but they did.

"Every year, countless of kids die in action." My voice was quiet, and I met Hinata's eyes briefly, and they flickered with hesitance. "Some of you get forced into stuff that you don't want to do. But that is just how shinobi life works. Guarding the village takes your life, and every single mission is dangerous. The stakes are high."

"Kids have to die-" I repeated. "-which is why this education that you are receiving now shouldn't be taken playfully."

"You should be serious about every aspect."

Kiba opened his mouth.

" _Every_ aspect." I interjected, gazing at Nara Shikamaru's glittering eyes. "And it doesn't mean only brute strength and awesome jutsus, which most of you are excited to jump straight into. I mean to say things that work your brain. Bring your inner tactician out."

"Erm, what are the other aspects?" Yano sounded quizzical.

"Why, history, for one."

I raised an eyebrow at the groans.

"It might be dry and boring, I agree." I laughed, looking at Hinata.

"Can you tell me the situation with Kumo now?"

"I, um."

I was pretty darn sure that she knew, amongst many other little details that tormented her, but she directed her gaze to her thumbs.

"Things are tense." I said. "Does anyone know why?"

A silence that spoke volumes than words ever could greeted me. I backtracked.

"Does someone know the origin of Kumogakure?"

Sakura hoisted a shy hand, and I gestured for her to proceed.

"Er, it was founded by the Raikage, after the Warring States Period."

"Thank you, Haruno." I scrutinized the class.

"There is something to be said about the relations of Kumo and Konoha." I glanced at the ceiling. It was so high, higher than my dank apartment back home.

"The First Hokage sold tailed beasts to Kumo as a representation of their friendship, at the beginning. The Second Raikage and the Second Hokage attempted to make their relation official with the ceremony."

"Sounds like it should be a good relationship." Ami concluded.

"What a moron." Shikamaru yawned in the back, peering at her lazily through knitted fingers.

"Didn't you come to the Academy in the last two years? The Red and Gold bros attempted to murder the Nidaime. During the First Shinobi World War, Konoha and Kumo ended on opposite sides. It ended with Kumo's Kinkaku force assassinating the Nidame."

To say everyone was surprised was an understatement, and Ami was fuming.

I reconsidered Shikamaru.

"I only like the interesting stuff." He wasn't enjoying the spotlight, and I redirected the attention to me.

"Who is a fan of the Yondaime?" I grinned as several hands shot up. It was no wonder why the fourth was revered by all.

"He is awesome." Yano said vehemently.

"How very observant," My voice was dry. "Let us recall from your last semester - I hope you remember - that he single handedly slaughtered ten thousand enemies during the Third Shinobi War."

The girls sighed. It probably helped that Minato was breathtaking to look at.

"An assignment for tomorrow." I tucked my fringe behind my ear, and the kids looked at me apprehensively, as though they couldn't decide on me.

"You don't have to write any accursed essay or whatever. Just tell me who your favorite Hokage is, and your reasons for that. And please, do refrain from fangirling and saying _'ooooh, he is soo cool!'_ and _'I wanna have his babies!'_. No, the last one doesn't apply to you, boys."

The class laughed.

"Akamaru, can you make sure that Kiba isn't drooling on your head?"

The dog gave a disgusted bark, while Kiba rolled his eyes.

"How many of you are interested in carrying out assassination missions?"

"This ninja business is all about assassination." Kiba pointed out, and I was pleased to note that he had some shred of common sense hanging about his brain.

"Which you guys are going to enter into." I hummed, acquiescing. "However, what I am hinting at are those reconnaissance missions where you have to go to a country that yours is at war with, or partially in treaty with, like Suna for instance, and you have to kill to gather information. Tell me, without information on past events, and also current affairs, do you think you'll be liable to fight there? Every damn country is different. With knowledge on what is happening, you can even make peace between two warring nations."

"That is not possible." Shikamaru drawled.

"And why do you think that, Nara?" I prompted, because he took the bait. It was the nature of a Nara, no matter how profoundly lazy they might be, to counter wrong statements as though their very life depended on them. They took pleasure in breaking down stuff, and while I appreciated that, I didn't see many clans respecting them for that.

He took a second or two to answer, unbothered by the curious looks directed at him.

"Third party interference creates problems." He said quietly. "It makes things worse."

"That's partially right." I said cheerfully. "Unless you are a mediator, never engage yourself in the battle between two warring nations, which happens to bring me to my next point."

I smiled at the naïve, pudgy faces that were intently looking at me.

"It is good to know everything about your foes and allies. Know thy enemy. Information makes you stronger. Have you wondered why you know your close rival, the things that make him or her tick, or angry, and everything that annoys or irritates them? It is because you want to have an edge over him. That edge makes you confident that you can usurp them."

"It is an honour to be recruited a genin. It means the Hokage is giving you a responsibility.

Someone gave a voracious roar of approval. The moron thought that he was going to kick ass.

"But you'll have to pass the genin exam first, I am afraid, and the Board of examiners aren't gonna make it easy for you." I added, feeling tremendously pleased by the whining that broke out in the room.

"Where was I? Yeah, you have to know the basics of the shinobi world inside out before you move into the practical."

The bell rang.

And let me emphasize that that was approximately the time when Uzumaki Naruto broke out of his sleep with a groggy, unfocused countenance.

"Wha-" He began, and I could see Touka digging a pencil into the skin of his elbow.

"Back from the land of the dead, Naruto?" I smiled at him. "We can't have a repeat of that in the next class, can we?"

Bewildered, he rubbed his eyes, even as the class descended in after-bell mayhem.

"And listen," I said nonchalantly, moving out of the room with a speed that rivalled Rock Lee. I paused in the doorway, bracing my hand against the rickety frame, meeting wide – or in the case of Nara, half-mast – eyes.

"The name is Ton. Yeah, make sure to remember that."

I didn't wait to catalogue their response, moving rapidly towards the staffroom.

Well, that went more or less well, I am sure, but a wide grin broke out on my face. Why did I have an inkling that things were going to be awesome?


	6. Chapter 6

.

* * *

 _Chapter 6_

* * *

It was snowing.

Air snagging in my throat, I threw my door open and looked up at the sky, which had suddenly given way to a grandiose shower of white. Choked up with innumerable feelings, I could only observe the sky. The earthy ground on my flat's front porch was dusted with a thin film of white, and I watched in silence as the landlady trotted her way up the stairs, mumbling profanities underneath her breath.

"Good morning, Mai-san." I greeted her, a part of me detached as I struggled to comprehend what nature was dramatizing for me.

I'd never thought I'd be able to experience snow in my life. Feeling emotional all of a sudden, I turned my attention to the old lady who had covered the stairs leading up to the veranda.

"Ton-san." She frowned. "Don't you have work today?"

"It's an off-day."

"I see."

The whistling of the wind had been going on for a while, but its frequency picked up. The landlady grumbled, making her way to her quarters.

"Hasn't snowed in a long while. I wonder why the stars have decided to curse us."

"A curse?" I enquired, following her steps into her room, waiting as she slid the panel to her room open, not before taking off her soled sandals.

"Yes, a curse." She said, shooting a dark glower at the ceiling, wispy strands of white hair framing her weathered face. To me, she looked unconventionally elegant.

Today was pay-day; the beginning of the month. As she began preparing a pot of scented cinnamon tea, I put an envelope on the table.

"Oh, yes. Is it that time already?" She looked uncomfortable, and I felt awkward. It wasn't like I had an obligation to enter her rooms and have tea with her, but she tolerated me.

"Why is it a curse?" I asked, even as she handed a cup over to me. She pulled back her sleeves, picking up a dish from the sink and allowing the water to gush.

"My husband had passed away on a winter morning." She murmured, over the clink of cutlery that had filled the kitchen.

"You could say that it is a premonition." Her tone was cautious, almost wistful.

"I apologise for intruding."

"It is fine, child." She said, flicking her wrist dismissively. "You are not leaving now."

Her small, leather-like face lost some of its aging folds, and perhaps in that moment, she must've been recollecting memories of her youth, her husband, and times that had been joyous and less stressful for her. A pair of brown, twinkling eyes flashed by me, and I shut my eyes, taking another sip of the bland, lightly flavoured tea. The scalding hotness brought me back to the present, the reality. Was this what one called reality? Or was it the facsimile, the mocking parody of one?

My musings were brought to a sudden closure when she spoke, almost inaudibly at first.

"He never failed to make me laugh. My husband was one of a kind."

"He sounds like a wonderful man." He might or mightn't have, who knew? What else could I say when she stood in a small, suffocating kitchen, recalling happy memories that had given her hope once upon a time? But I could relate, and that made me sober for a moment. I thought of hazel, flowing hair, shredding by sharp metal.

"He was." Her tone was heavy.

"Anything special happened this morning?" I asked, pouring myself a new cup. "You looked annoyed."

"Noticed that, didn't you, young lady?" She sighed, massaging her temple.

"I told you, winters are a bad omen. Konoha hasn't had one in years, and business has been flourishing for the past few years. I've been receiving new tenants."

"Something has happened?"

"Everything I'd feared has happened." She looked pensive, her clear black eyes meeting mine. The warm rim of the tea cup met my lips.

"That Uzumaki is to be shifted here, under ANBU's orders."

I spat the scalding tea all over her table, and she shot me a disgusted look under her lids.

"I'd thought as much." The hag didn't even bat an eyelash, even as I dragged a tea towel, wiping the teak surface.

"I don't care as much about the demon brat," She said, her voice gloomy. "But once my current tenants are aware, I'm sure they'll be happy to leave the rooms undusted. You won't be leaving, will you?"

Her tone was brisk, and I swallowed the last dregs of tea.

"I don't have anywhere else to go." I said, smiling weakly. "Why, are you trying to fend me away?"

She ignored my poor attempt at making things light.

"The villagers don't have any shame in showing their prejudice openly. They'll leave the moment I announce the circumstances, and I don't suppose that haggard Hokage has any time to care about the welfare of those in poor health."

"It must be quite difficult for you, Mai-san."

"I don't need any pity, so I'd watch my mouth if I were you, fool."

Her face was set in brusque lines, and to be honest, she reminded me of my stern-faced grandmother.

"It isn't sympathy. What are you going to do?"

It was like watching a slow-motion reel. Everything unexpected was occurring, and I couldn't wrap my mind around anything, and felt left out in a continuous, wretched cycle. Uzumaki hadn't known my identity in the first class, probably because he'd been sleep-impaired by the time the bell had rung. It would've made things problematic, and I wasn't so sure that the same thing would happen in the next class, which was on Sunday. Hell, I couldn't make the kid fail my class my allowing him to sleep like the dead.

"Accepting him into the rentals, of course." She said. "I wonder if I could convince the boy to dye his hair. It would make things less troublesome."

"I don't think that will happen."

If there was anything of use I'd learned from the orphanage, it was the management of kids who had a lot of time to spare on their hands. His pranks had a routine. If anyone provoked him, as was the usual case, he made sure to increase the flux of his pranks. It was like he followed a warped principle, one which he lived by.

He might not be like Tenten, whose accuracy with pens was legendary among my colleagues at the orphanage – she used them as darts when she got tired of toy kunai – but he certainly got creative with the wooden walls of the bedrooms, or the dining halls, and gave hell to some people I knew by dunking them in the toilet. I have a fond memory of the time when he'd electrocuted Suzuki when the man was in the washroom. Uzumaki had rigged some sort of defunct toaster to the closet, and after sitting down on it, the man has never looked at toilet seats the same way.

Let us not get to the time where he dumped green sludge on my head, despite the fact that I'd never even talked to the kid. Yeesh, he didn't really discriminate, didn't he?

"You'll have greater things to fear from now on." I assured her.

"His mischievous tendencies, as I understand it." She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've some dirty clothes to attend to."

* * *

I wanted to go out in the snow, but something pulled my back to my rooms like gravity. Peering in the mirror, I found that my face was slack. Was I going to pull this off? This anonymity over here, living in the sheer terror of being discovered – it felt like a fake coverage. Mind reading was possible in this crazy world. If Ino existed, then her clan existed in all its glory.

I'd spotted members of the Yamanaka in random places – the clan loved to socialize, and their distinctive pale golden hair and warm blue eyes hid how terrifying their shinobi could be. They were great at identifying small nuances that made up the personality of a person, and that added to my paranoia.

I did not want to go into the real world.

Ton the coward. Maybe I was being a masochist.

* * *

Come morning, I found myself facing rows of children, arranged in a circular ring around me. It appeared as though they were spectators, looking at me from their imperial seats, and waiting for a beast to come out of nowhere and kill me.

"I can see that you guys are happy to be out of bed."

"It is such an ungodly hour to be in class." Izumi slumped in his seat, even as Touka stabbed the table top with her pen in a way that vaguely disturbed me. Shikamaru seemed sullen to be yanked out of bed – by his mother, no doubt – and Sasuke kept a distance from Naruto, mouth hidden behind locked fingers. Ino was gazing at him dreamily, and one of Shino's bugs buzzed around the classroom.

"That bench isn't your cradle, Uzumaki. Stop slouching."

Naruto rubbed his eyes, freezing at the look on my face. I am sure it wasn't pleasant, whatever it was. Rumours were aplenty when the civilian orphanage recruits had stepped into the academy – the other chuunin teachers got a kick from patronizing us, not that I particularly cared. I'd passed the office one morning, arriving early at the Academy.

" _She has this horrible expression."_ It sounded like a guy, or perhaps a girl. It was a given that were talking about me, but did I care? Maybe I stopped caring somewhere along the ride. Maybe I was living so I could see my sister one last time and apologise for abandoning her. It was out of my hands.

Half of the class was _deadened_. If that isn't an accurate word to describe its overall ambience, I don't know what was. It was pretty dispiriting, especially for the second day of the academic year, but it was one gloomy winter morning, so what did I expect? Daisies and rosebuds?

Naruto had forgotten all about me, intent on annoying Sasuke. For this, I kind of regretted switching his seating arrangement, but looking at the way the Uchiha seethed at his would-be rival, I forgot about it.

It was a relief that something other than revenge inspired an emotion other than passiveness in the Uchiha.

"And that applies to you as well, Nara."

Nara Shikamaru. I didn't know what to make of the kid.

I slammed my hands on the desk. He had heard me, and he was trying very hard not to twitch on the desk he was laying on, in the very back. The force of the stare of the entire class swallowed him up. The year's History book was on his face, its pages splayed part.

"Is he for real?" Izumi let out a quiet laugh, fiddling with the zipper of her pullovers.

I chucked a piece of chalk at Shikamaru, and there was a moment of stunned silence as the projectile hit its mark.

The book slid right over his face, and he regarded me with an unimpressed look.

Yano burst out in raucous laughter, the class following him. Hinata's cheeks were flushed. Nothing new there.

"Nara," I said, over the din of giggles. "Do try to be realistic. You have a minute to get yourself together and straighten up, or else I'm going to be sticking you with Inuzuka for the rest of the year, damn the consequences."

"That's blackmail." Kiba was horrified. "Hell, I'll even sit the rest of the term near Yano if it means I won't have to sit with that moron."

Nara didn't give any indication that he'd heard Kiba's disparaging comment, resuming his customary slouch on the desk.

Yano seemed to take offence.

"Wait a second, are you comparing me to Nara?" He squeaked, red in his face. Akamaru nipped at his sleeve, snarling.

"You should see the look on your face, Kiba." Ino sing songed. "It's beautiful."

"Better than yours will ever be, bitch."

" _What did you say?_ Me, weird? I'm limited edition, you _dogshit_!"

"Limited edition? Yeah, I can see that." Ami smirked.

"Keep it light, kids." I raised my hands, attempting to diffuse the situation.

Shino muttered something inaudible underneath his breath, and Sakura looked like she wanted to throw a tantrum. She was a far sight better than Ino, who was trying to rile up Kiba into another fight.

"I brought something interesting today." I said, shrugging out of my coat. The class seemed to have been reinvigorated after the mini-blow out, and they peered cautiously at me.

"I guess if you don't want it, we can always start the day with the delegates of the Founding-"

" _No!"_ The chorusing was followed by looks of disgust.

"That's a dirty trick, sensei."

"Listen up, then." I shrugged, rummaging through the pockets of my coat for the rice paper.

I set down the sorry-looking stack of yellowed, distinctive parchment on the desk.

One of Shino's kikachu bugs was flying about, but other than that, there was complete silence. I could sense their puzzlement.

"This," I nodded to the stack. "Is special stuff. Can anyone tell me what it is?"

"What's so interesting about paper?" Yano enquired, scratching his chin.

"It is ninja paper." I said dryly, tapping my fingers on one. "You place it on the person's head, and it blows up."

"Really?"

"No, it has kamikaze properties to give you a good whipping on your ass."

Kiba choked. Yano shot him a vengeful look.

"I'm just messing with you, Yano. But seriously, this is expensive. Can anyone take a guess?"

"Not just any ordinary paper, then." Amatsuki declared, shuffling back in his seat.

"Duh, sensei just said that, dumbass."

Before anyone could get into another cacophony, I crouched, segmenting the papers into small squares, before laying them out on individual tiles.

"I expect an answer, when I question you guys." I said shortly, standing up. "Don't care if the answer is stupid, but answer."

"Well, you are pretty dumb 'cuz that looks like paper to me, Kiba." Naruto pitched in, eyes crinkled. It seems that he hadn't recognized me. How many years has it been, since he'd been away from the orphanage? I thought about my conversation with the landlady the day before.

Sasuke beat me to it.

"That's chakra paper, dobe."

"Teme!"

And then Uchiha proceeded to revert back to brooding.

"Yes, Uchiha is right." I agreed, holding a piece up from my crouch.

"This small, unassuming piece of paper is to find out what chakra affinities a shinobi may possess. Before discussing about chakra types, I want you guys to tell me what these are."

I stood up, straightening my torso, and picked up a piece of chalk. Nara's half-lidded eyes followed my movements like a hawk. I drew out the kanji for the five natures, before turning to the class.

"Elemental affinities. Hinata, can you tell me what they are?"

"Earth, w-wind, water, f-fire and lightening."

I threw a leg over the table, gesturing towards the board.

"You guys are going to be genin next-to-next year. You must have a pretty good grasp on the relation between these natures, right? It's obvious, just from looking at the diagrams. There is a relationship between these elements."

"For example," I said casually. "The simplest one would be fire beating water. What do you think wind does to lightening?"

No answer.

"Let's rewind. The Five Elemental Nature Transformations are the foundations for all ninjutsu. A person can have more than one chakra type, but the most common chakra types belonging to a shinobi will be complementary, in most cases."

Their blank faces were hilarious.

"Okay." I hummed. "Let's see, can a person be more suited to water and fire rather than wind and fire?"

"Wind and fire." Ami said instantly.

"And why's that?"

"Because whenever my ma blows into the fire, it burns brighter."

"That's right, Amatsuki." I said. "Fire is stronger than wind. That was the correct observation, Ami. Good job."

"And why is that?" Ino asked, grudging interest lacing her voice.

"Think about it this way." I said. "Fire can be beaten by water the same way wind can be beaten by fire. We can douse a flame by putting water on it. We can speed up a flame by blowing on it. Do you see a diagonal relationship here? It will not be practical for a shinobi to commonly have two opposing natures like the ones I'd mentioned – water and fire – because there will be an imbalance."

"So, in conclusion, what do you think about the chakra pairs that are well-suited for each other?" I asked.

"Wind strengthens fire, which can be used to beat water." Shikamaru drawled.

"I can see that you didn't directly say that fire beats water. Why is that?"

He stayed silent, and I resisted the urge to laugh. His participation-in-class quota must have expired.

"Why is that?" I repeated it to the class.

"B-because…"

Hinata's voice was low, but not enough to escape my attention.

"Because, Hyuuga?"

"B-beacause water release, if it's s-strong…" She trailed away, and I could see Naruto's attention on her.

"Go on, it's correct." I prompted.

"It can o-overpower water, and w-water doesn't need air."

"That's right, Hyuuga." I said. "While it is true that each element has a definite advantage over the others, what depends on the strength is the potency of the attack."

"Quantity?" Haruno's voice was uncertain.

"Intensity of the attack."

"Oh."

"Okay, now that that's cleared up, let me know what you think about earth." I looked at the wall clock hanging miserably in one corner of the room.

"Let's speed things up. I drew the cross-relation between the elements, so you might want to take that down in your head. Not compulsory to write, but I expect you to remember these tomorrow when I quiz you on it."

"Earth absorbs water, so it is stronger than water. However, it is weaker than it." I said. "Think about it for tomorrow. Right now, let us discover your chakra types. Nara, since you are interested in getting this thing over with, why don't you come and be the first to demonstrate?"

Snickering filled the class. Shikamaru threw an arm over his eyes, groaning.

While he took his time, I continued.

"You'll most likely know that Hatake Kakashi was the one to develop Chidori."

"It is a badass jutsu." Yano pumped his fists in the air.

"Yes Yano, now that we all know you obsess over him, can you tell me what his chakra releases are?"

"Lightening." Shino pushed his glasses up. "Technically, it is stronger than earth, although I've heard that Hatake-san has all the four."

I didn't usually make assumptions, but it was amazing that someone as mysterious a kid as Shino was responding. His seatmates were giving him a wide berth, understandably fearful of the bugs that popped up occasionally.

"That's impossible." Sakura blurted out.

"He's a genius." Ino sighed. "The good-looking ones always are. What did you expect, forehead girl?"

"Yes, Hatake-san is a rare case." I said. "He is a capable shinobi. His legendary sharingan gives him the ability to mimic any ninjutsu that an enemy does in front of him. Back to the point, Nara, did you drop down dead somewhere there?"

"I didn't want to interrupt you." His voice was even.

He bent down, picking a paper up. I caught his arm.

"It's best if you do it on the ground." I raised my voice. "Another reason why these aren't in standard issue. It is expensive, but made from a rare species that grows deep in the Forest of Death. It is pretty reactive, so the wrong reaction might trigger it."

"Really, sensei?" Naruto's tone was cautious, hopeful; as though he had never interacted with a teacher on good terms before.

"Wha' does it do?"

"Do you want to find out after it has blown up on your face?" I asked wryly, walking up to his desk and facing the front of the class, where Nara was regarding the thing.

"Do your worst, Nara. Burn it."

"But we haven't studied any fire techniques." Kiba pointed out. "How the hell is he gonna manage that?"

Shikamaru looked at me in the eye.

"We can use chakra?"

"Yes." I agreed. "It all depends on the output, really. Let us see how you manage it."

All academy students were aware of chakra modulation – it was a primary part of their curriculum. It was a technique that called forth their chakra, making them adjust to it and manipulate it. Clan kids had an extra advantage; their families prepped them even before the civilian kids could start reciting rhymes.

I watched in fascination as tendrils of shadows from the cupboard clambered upon the skin of Shikamaru's hands, coating the paper in darkness. I heard the slide of wood over stone as the others leaned over their desks to get a better look.

When the chakra bled into the paper, it caught into flames. Shikamaru let go of it, watching as it fell down.

"Nara has _fire?!_ "

And that wasn't all. It didn't turn into ash instanty, as I'd read. It hit the ground, crumbling into solid pieces.

"He has a bit of Earth affinity as well." I announced, and the class broke into a racket.

"Shika, why didn't you tell me?" Ino demanded.

"Naruto, do us the honour of being next."

"Yeah, the idiot."

"Hey!" Naruto's voice made my ears hurt.

When he approached in front of the class, my heart was thundering.

The paper split into half.

"Hey," He looked disappointed that it hadn't been flashy. "What's going on here?"

"You have a wind nature." Shino replied.

"Some of the bingo-book stars have wind nature." I said. "The kazekage has a wind nature. Gaa-"

I cleared my throat, but the kids didn't notice, indignant as they looked at Uzumaki, and at each other.

"Kazekage? That's awesome!"

His grin made me think of bright futures, and naïvely enough, I believed him.

The bell rang.

"Tomorrow." I promised as the whining broke out. I picked up the rest of the pile of chakra papers on the ground, before pacing towards the door.

It could have been my imagination, but it hit me, all the same.

"She's cool." I heard one of the kids saying, and that was more than what I'd ever asked for in this crazy world.

* * *

Days flashed by me, and it was like I was the only one frozen it time, without an aim. I found myself warming up to the Academy, and things seemed to be going well. The chūnin instructors had established a rapport with the rookies, and by the time the New Year arrived, I unwillingly got together with my colleagues for the annual staff meet up at the local saké shop, _Ninhonshu_. True, it wasn't exactly the textbook behavior for teachers, who were supposed to be role models, but when you considered that we were an entirely different branch of teachers trained to bring up child soldiers, it isn't jarring.

The sound of the clink of porcelain bottles on the counters washed over me, and I buried my head in my elbows. I didn't feel like drinking.

"Enjoying the event?" Iruka's voice sounded near me, and I lifted my head up.

"Umino? I thought you'd be busy elsewhere."

His laugh was nice. Light on the ears.

"They can be a bit handful sometimes."

I noticed that he was cradling a glass of water to his chest.

"You could have stayed at home if you hated the scene." I pointed out. "Why bother coming if you weren't meaning to sample alcohol?"

"I don't care much for alcohol." He said. "I've been busy the entire month. Thought I should spend it with the others, but they are a rowdy bunch. What about you, Ton-san? You don't seem to be in it."

"No, I don't." I agreed, filling a glass and tipping it back against my mouth. The burning sensation traversed down my throat, and I closed my eyes. Liquor made me feel nauseous. Umino was silent, and his silvery scar oddly stood out in the amber lighting of the counter.

"I don't like evenings."

"Why is that?" He seemed amused.

"Don't know. I am superstitious sometimes. Aren't we all?"

"I firmly believe in reality, Ton-san."

"As we all are aware. Are you nineteen?"

"Going on to twenty, actually." He smiled. "But that's pretty accurate. You?"

I took a while to answer. Did I even remember?

"Twenty four, give or take. I honestly haven't celebrated any birthdays in a long while."

"Really?"

"Why would I want to lie on that?" I asked him.

"I thought you'd be older." He joked, leaning back on the counter and letting out a heartfelt sigh. I observed the dark circles smudging the underside of his eyes.

"Do things remind you of bad incidents that have happened in your life?"

This wasn't the first time I had blurted out a socially awkward question. Stupid probably didn't even cover it.

"Many times." His smile was absent, and he was regarding me openly. He seemed fragile, all of a sudden. It was an uncanny thought to have, one without any meaning. I knew what he'd come here for.

"What did you want to talk to me about?" I cut right down to the chase. Might as well bear the brunt of it.

"Ton-san," He straightened, looking characteristically serious. "You _know_ what I am talking about."

He was sober, and in all likelihood, he wasn't about to budge until I had broached the topic.

"I thought I had made my opinion on this clear, Umnio."

"But won't you give it a chance?"

"I'll talk to you later." I said. "Something came up."

I didn't know if it was the alcohol or my inability to face things head on, but I got up. Before he could call after me, I threw myself in the throng of people at the door, forcing my way out and tasting the scent of the night. My hands were clammy, all of a sudden.


End file.
